First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  Calinda walked forward and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry if I’m inconveniencing you, Mister Cardone. Why didn’t my father come? Why did he send you? Is he busy or away?” she asked, hardly knowing where to begin.

  One brow lifted inquisitively and his dark eyes intentionally clouded with confusion. “Your arrival and frantic summons came as a complete surprise to me. Since your message sounded so urgent, I felt I should respond personally. I am greatly puzzled, Senorita. Why are you seeking Elliott Braxton at the Cardone Ranch?”

  “You’re saying my father doesn’t work or live at your ranch?” she questioned apprehensively, her eyes pleading for a negative reply.

  “Where would you get such ideas, Senorita?”

  “His last letter told me about you and the ranch. I was supposed to join him when I finished school in England,” she replied hoarsely.

  To test her depth of knowledge or questionable intentions, Rankin probingly disputed, “Impossible. Brax has been gone for years. Who are you, Senorita? Why did you really come?” he asked unflinchingly.

  Bemused, Calinda arose quickly and gaped at him, her face paling. “He’s gone?” she asked in a strained voice.

  “Probably dead,” Rankin declared to test her reaction.

  The room spun dizzily, then went black as Calinda slipped to the floor in a faint. Rankin was spurred into motion, coming to her side. He lifted her limp body and placed her on the bed. Taking a wet cloth, he mopped her ashen face until she stirred. In spite of his calm facade, Rankin’s mind was whirling with wild speculations. What did this girl expect from him? Was she really Calinda Braxton? She didn’t favor Brax at all. Bitterness and hatred smoldered within Rankin. Aware of the stakes, he quickly warned himself to be cautious and alert.

  When Calinda began to sob, Rankin quietly said, “I’m sorry, Senorita Braxton: I should not have been so blunt. We only assume your father is dead; he vanished years ago. All of your letters to him were returned. Why did you come here?”

  Her voice trembling with emotion, but edged with new hope, she told Rankin what had brought her to this moment. “I’m just as confused as you, sir. If you returned my letters, they never reached me. Why would he leave without telling me? I never imagined you wouldn’t be able to help me.” She tried to master her tears and grief.

  Rankin didn’t know what to think. Perhaps this girl was ignorant of the turbulent past. But did he owe anything to the daughter of his treacherous enemy? Still, her fear and sadness, if they were real, touched and disarmed him.

  “Why would you come this far without hearing from Brax for years? I cannot understand why Brax didn’t inform you of his departure.”

  Calinda explained her reasons and predicament, adding details of the recent robbery. Rankin concluded either she was an excellent deceiver or she didn’t know the truth. This girl and curious situation could be dangerous. She could accidentally or rashly uncover the buried past…He needed time to observe her, to glean more facts.

  A genial smile flickered on Rankin’s lips as a plan formulated in his keen mind. “There is but one action to take. You’ll come to the Cardone Ranch until we can decide what to do with you.”

  “I couldn’t impose on you, Mister Cardone,” she weakly argued.

  “Don’t be foolish, Senorita Braxton. Of course you’ll come. You can hardly remain here accepting charity. Besides, this is no place for a young lady alone. You’ll be my guest for as long as you wish.” No matter what her motive, she must go with him.

  A sunny and trusting smile brightened Calinda’s face, softening her eyes. “You’re very kind, Mister Cardone. Do you think there’s any possibility my father’s alive? Did anyone search for him?”

  “Yes, Senorita Braxton. I personally conducted a lengthy search, then hired a Pinkerton detective. Nothing. When so much time passed without word or a clue, we gave up all hope. Brax was always craving new adventures and chasing dreams. Perhaps he’ll return one day.”

  In her distracted state, Calinda missed the coldness in Rankin’s voice and eyes and the intensity of his observation. Within the hour, she was packed and on her way to the Cardone Ranch, under the eagle eye of Rankin and several of his men.

  To prevent her from asking too many questions, Rankin conversed on Texas, cattle, local events, and the landscape. Calinda was amazed by the scenery. She had never seen such openness, such seemingly endless grasslands and pale blue skies. Mountains could be viewed in the distance. In some areas, no trees or bushes existed. In others, they sparsely dotted the land in scattered clusters or stood singularly like a lonely person. Wild cactus and white yuccas were abundant, as were a variety of colorful wildflowers. Some fields appeared sown in thousands of goldenrods, Indian paintbrush, or blue bonnets. To take her mind off her dilemma, Calinda turned this way and that to take in the panorama, a ruggedly beautiful setting.

  As they passed fenced areas, she watched healthy cattle and sleek horses as they grazed or moved about aimlessly. Sometimes mounted cowboys could be seen herding them or kneeling beside fires with branding irons. When Calinda asked if branding hurt the animals, Rankin eagerly launched into an explanation of the necessary task.

  “A brand is like your name. Any man can capture and sell mavericks, unbranded cattle that roam free. It’s important to use a mark that can’t be changed by rustlers or be read in another way by some dishonest rancher. Branding might sting for a minute, but it’s quickly forgotten. We try to do horses and cattle while they’re young. There’s a certain way to read a brand. It starts from top to bottom, then from left to right. If a letter is in a slanted position, it’s called tumbling. If it’s lying on its side, it’s called lazy. Naturally a rocker on its base means rocking something, or wings on its sides means flying something. I’ll show you all about them on the ranch.”

  “That sounds most intriguing,” she said, eyes aglow.

  “Do you know how to ride and shoot?” he asked curiously, glancing at the exquisite lady in the cheap, cotton dress.

  “I’m a good rider, and I can handle a rifle. From what I’ve observed so far, both traits appear vital out here.”

  “Most assuredly, Senorita Braxton. I’ll have one of my men teach you how to fire a pistol. One never knows when one’s life might be in jeopardy.” He chuckled at her hasty agreement.

  “Do you have any family, Mister Cardone?’ she inquired.

  “One son. My wife…is no more.”

  Calinda graciously dismissed the grim mention of his deceased wife. “I look forward to meeting your son. I hope he won’t mind my intrusion.” Calinda was charmed by his easy manner and stimulating personality, taking an instant liking to this man. Despite their unlikely meeting, they had discovered an easy rapport.

  “Lynx is rarely home. He prefers to roam. This area often inspires wildness in young bucks. I’m hoping he’ll be ready to settle down soon.” Calinda’s arrival had been a shock to Rankin, and he was feeling more talkative than usual in his troubled state. It was uncanny, but she possessed a rare talent for liberating him of doubts and restraints.

  Calinda noted the trace of sadness in Rankin’s expression as he unknowingly allowed it to surface. Her heart went out to him; he must be terribly lonely with his wife dead and his son off sowing wild oats. If Lynx favored his father, he must be a handsome man. “How did he get such an unusual name?” she asked politely.

  Rankin gazed off as he told her the fascinating story of his son’s birth. “That was before the ranch was settled and our house was ready. Laura and I were living in a cabin in the edge of the mountains, waiting for winter to let up. I was trapping and hunting. One day I returned to find my only son arriving early. When he made his howling entrance, the first thing I grabbed to wrap him in was a lynx hide. Might add, he seems to have grown up as wild and cunning as one.”

  Traveling a road from his past and exploring Calinda’s reactions, Rankin talked on. “Lynx was terribly upset when Laura was taken from us. He couldn’t seem to sit still
a minute. He became moody and reckless. Every time he rides off, I wonder if he’ll get home alive. He’s been in more gunfights and fistfights than I care to recall. I think that reputation of his has him bewitched; sometimes he acts like he can challenge and defeat Satan himself. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he did. I’ve scolded and reasoned for years. Hasn’t done any good. God help any fool who crosses him.” From the corner of his dark eyes, Rankin watched the girl sitting next to him. If any of those facts were familiar to her, it didn’t show; nor did she seem to doubt or fear him. Rankin couldn’t allow Calinda to discover what had happened with Brax, nor to become mistrustful of the Cardones.

  Calinda felt Rankin had been speaking about himself as much as his carefree son. This Lynx should be ashamed of his selfishness; it was clear his father needed and loved him. She wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t want to be impolite. When she tried to probe into her father’s departure and past life on the ranch, Rankin asked her to wait until later when they could speak in private.

  By dusk, the Cardone Ranch was in sight. They travelled for miles after Rankin told her they were on his land, then for many more miles after passing under the gatepost with the “C” over the “R”. Evidently the Cardone Ranch was massive. The landscape was peaceful and lovely. Large herds of cattle and groups of horses could be seen at intervals. She was filled with awe and excitement.

  When they approached the house, Calinda’s eyes widened in astonishment. It was a two-story, oblong structure which hinted at a hacienda facade. The exterior was adobe, sheathed in sandy-colored stucco. The roofs on the house and the verandas were covered with mission tile, dull red terra cotta. The front portico spanned the full length of the house, displaying five large arches through which the downstairs doors and windows were visible. The curved arches were edged with muddy red adobe blocks, as were all windows on the first and second floors. Two private balconies were set on either end of the top floor, each with a front and side arch for views. The house and private yards were enclosed by an irregular stone wall. With cactus gardens scattered around, the scene was enchanting and heart-warming.

  A short distance away, there were other structures, well-kept and solid. She noticed three stone bunkhouses with a separate cookhouse, two lofty barns, several supply sheds, a windmill and watertower, sturdy corrals, and miles of fencing. She couldn’t help but wonder why her father would desert such a lovely locale and good man.

  When the carriage halted, Rankin helped Calinda down. A dark-haired, dark-eyed young woman left the house to join them, halting near Rankin to glower at Calinda with visible displeasure. She was introduced as Salina Mendoza, housekeeper and cook. Salina’s colorful skirt swayed as her shapely body moved. She was wearing a white peasant blouse that hinted at a large bosom. Her mouth was painted red; her skin was olive and smooth. Midnight hair tumbled over her dark shoulders; her nearly black eyes were chilly and mocking. She merely nodded when Calinda spoke to her. Tossing a “Disculpa,” excuse me, over her shoulder, Salina turned and strutted inside with Calinda’s small bundle clutched beneath one arm.

  As they stepped into the entry hall, Rankin was telling Calinda she would need clothes made very soon. He suggested a party in the near future to introduce her to his neighbors, implying a lengthy stay. He could hardly keep his past friendship with her father a secret, so he used it as the motive for helping her. For now, he simply needed to discover how much she knew and why she had appeared suddenly.

  Rankin doubted that Brax had confided in a distant family which he had abandoned and betrayed. The question remained, was Calinda Braxton as genuine and naive as she claimed and appeared? The best solution was to wait until Lynx came home. With Lynx’s intuition, intelligence, and charming prowess, he would extract the truth and deal with it. If she was guilty, Que lastima…

  Just inside the doorway, Calinda visually explored her new surroundings. To the left, a bowed arch revealed a striking dining room. An open door beyond it exposed the kitchen. Straight ahead, there were steps leading upstairs. Beside the stairs, she could partially view the bedroom used by Rankin. To her right, double wooden doors opened into an immense living area. To the rear of that room was Rankin’s office, with doors opening into it and his bedroom.

  Salina returned to show Calinda to a guest room on the second floor, a spacious and feminine room with a small front balcony and a large veranda to the rear. Salina spoke little and seemed to enjoy revealing her dislike of the beautiful stranger. Salina left her alone.

  The moment the nasty girl left, Calinda examined her room. The furnishings were Spanish; the color scheme was in shades of blue, gold, and ivory. There was a sitting area to the front which opened onto the private balcony. She peered out the double glassed doors to the rear. A roofed veranda went from one end of the house to the other, again with three large arches before three sets of double doors. After freshening herself, Calinda donned a plain dress and went downstairs for dinner.

  Rankin was relaxed in this controlled setting. Tonight, he chatted easily and smiled freely. The roast and fresh vegetables were delicious, a rare treat after her recent meals. Salina cleared the table as Rankin and Calinda went into a very masculine living room for a glass of sherry.

  Calinda wandered around the spacious area as she sipped her sherry. As they sat, they conversed on the heavy and skillfully carved furniture, the chair made of horns from steers, the swords and guns displayed on one wall, the large buffalo head mounted over an enormous fireplace, various objects of Spanish art exhibited, and tapestries which added color and enchantment to the rectangular room, as did several multi-colored rugs placed on the highly polished wooden floor. Rankin pointed out the “vegas,” ceiling beams in cottonwood, and “rajas,” split cottonwood molding vertically attached to the walls every three feet. As with the exterior, the interior adobe walls were sheathed in beige stucco. There were two sets of double glass-doors, one leading to a side portico and one leading to the front veranda. Even though it lacked a feminine touch, Calinda found it appealing. To one end, there was a billiard table. Rankin said he would teach her that game.

  The hour grew late as Rankin told Calinda carefully selected tales of how he and her father had spent earlier days. There were only a few hired hands still around from those years; they had been warned not to mention Brax or those past times. Calinda heard how her father had fought Indians and nature side-by-side with Rankin while he was carving out this empire which rivaled the King Ranch to the south near Laredo and the XIT to the northeast. Rankin disclosed many colorful past adventures, all of which Calinda found stimulating. She warmed at the slight mention of Laredo…

  Rankin told Cal that Brax “just up and left one day”, never to return or send a message of his whereabouts. “Brax made a terrible mistake, Calinda. We would have been great partners. If things had been different, both you and Lynx would be living here.” Once again, Rankin gingerly questioned Brax’s letters to her in England.

  Calinda felt embarrassed about her father’s actions toward her and her mother and to this generous man. Evidently her father had become greedy, selfish, and ungrateful. Rankin was surprised when Calinda apologized for her father’s conduct. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up, Mister Cardone. Considering how my father repaid your kindness, I’m amazed you did. Why would he leave here? Why didn’t he confide in you or contact me?”

  “In those early days, Brax and I were best friends, Calinda. I could hardly allow his daughter to fend for herself. Brax was like a man driven by some inexplicable force; maybe he found life here dull after the danger was past and the challenges were fewer. But I am sorry for what he put you through. You can stay here as long as you wish. I’ve missed laughter and beauty in this house. Come and go as you wish. Ask for anything you want or need. I owe Brax plenty. You have no place to go. I doubt you wish to return to England, and you have no other kin.” He felt those reasons should hold her here until this precarious mystery could be sol
ved. Besides, he desired her to remain.

  His hospitality and friendship were godsends, and Calinda was drawn to them. “I insist on helping out, Mister Cardone. I can cook and clean. This is a large house for Salina to manage alone.”

  “A special guest doesn’t work, Senorita,” he teased mirthfully before they went their separate ways.

  When Calinda awoke the next morning and went downstairs, she found Rankin gone and Salina busy with chores. When she offered to help, she quickly discovered Salina wasn’t receptive to that idea. In fact, Salina waited on her as an honored guest in this house, as Rankin had ordered with the hope of disarming Calinda.

  Calinda walked around the house and yards, trying to avoid Salina’s glacial path and sharp tongue. She couldn’t decide why the Mexican girl was so hostile. It seemed best to ignore Salina and evade her. If she stayed very long, she would find a way to halt this silly conflict with that tempestuous girl. Calinda wasn’t one to accept charity or to laze around. But she had suffered several defeats and needed time to regroup her thoughts and to make future plans. Although she had never thought of getting a job, it seemed the only course for survival. The idea of teaching or sewing for the rest of her life sounded repulsive and boring. But what else could a woman do?

  Calinda ate lunch in the quiet dining room, feeling very small at the lengthy table. Afterwards, she boldly explored the upstairs while Salina was occupied with laundry. At the top of the stairs, a hallway ran in either direction. She went to her left, to locate a room on the end which matched hers in size and shape. Obviously, from the manly decor, it was Lynx’s room. On both sides of the stairway, she found two smaller rooms; one hinted at a previous nursery and the other was a storage room for linens and so forth. Between her room and Lynx’s was another, but smaller, guestroom.